The Role
by Mad J-J
Summary: Howard was convinced that with a Soulmark as straightforward as his, he'd have no Soulmate-related troubles. Oh boy, was he wrong.


A/N: Hi! This story is set in a Soulmate AU. It applies the following rules: the first words your Soulmate ever say to you are tatooed somewhere on your body. If a Soulmate dies, then the Soulmark on their other half fades from black to a dull grey.

If something is left unclear in the story, tell me in the comments and I'll add to the description (... Or the story) to dissipate any confusion!

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Howard always thought he was one of the lucky ones. Having a Soulmark that outwards states your Soulmate's name was a blessing, he thought. In fact, he didn't understand why it wasn't more of a social convention to introduce yourself with your name. He guessed it was somehow related to Fate, or whatever decided what the Words would be.

It didn't matter much for him, because he had known for as long as he could remember his Soulmate's name.

The weirdness of a woman calling herself 'Agent' never occurred to him until it was pointed out to him. The little moniker was far from the weirdest thing found in a Soulmark however. Three children of his class had Soulmarks in another language, one of which didn't even use their alphabet.

As he grew up and learned more about the differences between men and women, Howard decided he didn't mind a Soulmate that was ambitious enough to defy every societal expectation. In fact, if his Soulmate could be an Agent, employ herself in a job that was in no doubt mainly taken by man, why shouldn't every woman be able to do so?

Maybe this was one of the motives why he thrived to make something of himself that no one would have thought possible for someone of his background. He'd be smart, he'd be rich, he'd be successful.

By age twenty-two, Howard already felt bored out of his mind. He had managed to get himself through a prestigious school, graduate with top marks, start a company successful enough to guaranty he'd never need for anything, and was slowly but certainly becoming famous. Yet, he felt… incomplete. Something was missing, yes, and he had the feeling it had something to do with the words written over his hipbone. His mother always told him that there was no sense in trying to hurry his Meeting, because of Fate, and that had been the reason why he never tried to search for her.

And, he reasoned, he was only twenty-two. He had plenty of time before meeting her.

Howard had never been reasonable.

That was only one of the reasons that made him accept Colonel Philips' offer to join the SSR. It presented something new to his life, and the chance of meeting numerous agents… Well, he was not about to refuse that, was he?

He only worked for about eleven months, all of which were more interesting that anything he had ever done before in his life, before he met her. Considering how long it took for some people, he could once again consider himself lucky, couldn't he?

It quickly turned from the best moment of his life to one of the worst in a matter of seconds.

Doctor Erskine's work was something that made Howard's head spin. Not only did it require several readings of the scraps of information gathered by the SSR's intelligence for him to fully understand what it all entailed, it was also a true work of art. Howard could have waxed poetics about the genius that Doctor Erskine was for ever finding such solutions to problems the rest of the world had been working on for _decades_. And he never had had a full access to his work!

So, obviously, Howard was ready to meet the man as soon as possible. He might have been a successful entrepreneur and a brilliant scientist, but he had only turned twenty-three in August of 1940, and his excitement was on par with a jazz enthusiast's about to meet Louie Armstrong.

However, there was no time for introductions that would display just how much he could embarrass himself with fawning over the man. When he arrived after being rescued from a literal dungeon in a castle by an infiltrated SSR agent, the scientist was in rags, dehydrated, with wrist and ankles showing clear signs of abuse from his chains, was in dire need of a long, soapy bath, and had just learned of his family's demise. Howard thought it best to reign in his impulses for once.

As the competent people in caring for another traumatized, beat-up human being began to take care of the new addition to their team, Howard noticed he hadn't introduced himself to the agent who had rescued the other scientist. Her brown hair was tied in two tresses that fell over her red, traditional German dress. The costume came with an apron and ruined make-up from the chase they had had when leaving with Doctor Erskine. She had infiltrated the castle as a maid, and while it seemed she had accomplished her job with perfection, she was wasting no time in wiping the light pink lipstick and eye shadow that had gotten smudged in the action.

"I don't think we've met," he said, extending his hand, "I'm Howard Stark."

The woman took a second to wipe her hand on her no-longer white apron, before she took his hand in hers and answered:

"Nice to make your acquaintance, I am Agent Peggy Carter."

Stunt, Howard was left speechless for the first time in his life. There was no mistaking the name he had been memorizing since he could read, some twenty-or-so years ago. He had replayed these words many time in his mind - but never before with an English accent. It felt like hearing them for the first time all over again, a wave of surprise and excitement taking over him.

Yet, while he knew he must have looked like a fool, she merely shook his hand and looked towards the leaving figure of Doctor Erskine.

"He's pretty shaken up," she worried, "but hopefully he'll accept to help us. Hopefully, he also won't be pressured into it too soon."

She turned back to him. Howard had somehow managed to regain countenance, but she still hadn't showed any sign of recognizing his Words.

"War might be at our doors, but in this case, some hurrying things along would only hurt us in the long-run. Wouldn't you agree?"

He nodded, having only understood about half of what she meant, too preoccupied by his sudden revelation.

She was an attractive young woman, younger than him, so young in fact that it was no wonder no one ever suspected her of being a secret agent during her mission. There was a set determination in her gaze, a rightfulness in the way her body moved and yet a true concern for the man she had just saved.

She didn't look at him once like she had just heard the words from her Soulmark.

He didn't speak of Soulmates that day.

Unreciprocated Soulmates weren't unheard of, but they were rare. Tragedies had been written about the poor souls, books had been written about the reason for their curse and purists tended to preach for their destruction.

Howard didn't know for sure that he was unreciprocated, but what evidence he had was strong enough to presume. There remained a slimmer of hope, one that he didn't dare to extinguish by addressing the issue with Peggy.

Over the course of the next few months, he got to work with her on several occasions, during which he learned that his reputation had preceded him. She saw him as unreliable at times, a bit of a hot-head that would jump in action, disregarding any instruction – which was rich coming from her, she was the one that had stormed a hangar full of Hydra operatives armed only with a handgun – and a money-hungry, over-ambitious and callous businessman – which was a gross exaggeration, in his opinion.

That was it, he thought, that was the reason why she didn't react. She merely didn't think of him as solid material to become a good Soulmate, despite all his early accomplishments. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that called him desperate, and started working hard to prove her wrong.

They gradually grew closer, something of a comradery building the two of them. All his admittedly awkward flirtation was met with a dismissal or a laugh, which didn't deter him much. He liked making Peggy laugh, he liked seeing her happy.

As he became closer to her though, Howard realized that there was something very wrong with him, and it didn't have anything to do with unreciprocated feelings. Quite the contrary.

Peggy… Peggy was wonderful. Smart, dedicated and strong-willed, she never wasted an opportunity to prove her worth as an agent, nor to demonstrate just how wrong anyone who thought less of her for being a woman was. She was wonderful, yet Howard never once felt anything more than friendship towards her. There wasn't the spark, the undying love, the stuff songs and movies were made of and that he heard of for his entire life regarding Soulmates.

And she was his Soulmate. The one meant to complete him! Shouldn't he have fallen head over heels for her by now? Howard had never before thought of himself as a romantic, but he was starting to reconsider a lot of the things he took for granted.

He buried himself in books, trying to find answers to his questions.

The one explanation he tossed aside immediately was the false positive. For common Words, there was certainly a good chance to meet a false positive. How many people did you greet for the first time with a "How do you do?", or "Hello", or "Excuse me"? How many people mistook a stranger for their Soulmate for that very reason?

His Words could not have been though, not when her name was literally spelled out to him. Who else would introduce themselves as Peggy Carter?

He took another dive into Soulmarks theoretical documentation and finally found an explanation that could have fit.

Platonic Soulmate, they called it. That was why he didn't seem to feel anything romantic for her. Maybe that was also the reason why she didn't have his Words. At this point, he was slowly accepting the reality of his situation. He could be content with this, he told himself. He didn't want anything more from her, because what she gave was more than enough.

He still longed for a romantic Soulmate though.

Someone meant to share a deep connection, an understanding, someone who would care for him as much as he'd care for them. Someone he could build a life with, a future. Someone who would help him through hard times and who he would help as well. Someone who would make him feel loved and elicit love from him as well. Someone to share his heart with.

Maybe he was more of a romantic than he thought.

Around a year after his first meeting with Peggy, as he was, once again, coming to terms with his situation, the war that had been threatening at their doorstep finally came storming in, as the SSR had predicted. With Pearl Harbor, Howard found himself thrown into his work, more than ever.

Stark Industries was meant to better the life of people who, like Howard when he was younger, lacked for everything and needed better healthcare, better housing, better technology to support them. He hadn't originally planned on designing weapons and planes, but to do what his country needed to bloom. What his country needed now, though, was to win the war.

The ninth December of 1941, two days after Pearl Harbor, Howard decided to involve his company in the work with the SSR he had previously kept completely separated.

The eleventh was marked by an invitation to work on Project Manhattan.

In-between that, Project Rebirth, and managing the production of his company for the military, Howard had little time to dwell on personal matters, which suited him just fine.

In fact, it occupied him fully for over another year.

His personal musings came back to hit him with a vengeance mid-June 1943, when Peggy Carter, who he had not seen as much since the beginning of the war, announced to him that she had met her Soulmate.

It felt as if a full year and a half of self-loathing, denial and anxiety fell back on his shoulder all at once. It lasted for about an hour in his hotel room, stuck in a state of prostration after keeping up a façade at a lunch with Peggy, before he remembered how to bury his feelings and get back to work.

They had a lot to do, no time to dwell, no time to dwell. The project Rebirth was almost at completion, only needing a first test subject to reach completion and begin with the actual application it was always meant for. Howard had full confidence in Doctor Erskine's, their team's and his own work, and believed without a shadow of a doubt that it would success.

Well, mostly without a doubt.

Project Manhattan, on the other hand, was nowhere near its end, and the army asked for always more supplies and weapons from Stark Industries.

The day he met Steve Rogers, Howard lost the result of three years of relentless work as well as his friend and the man he had looked up to for years.

He didn't have the time to get over the blow that was Doctor Erskine's death, that Steven Rogers and his precious modified DNA was out of his life.

Five months later, and Captain America's fame had become an integral part of their world. Howard could not blame the man for not wanting to stay and get probed at by countless scientist in the hope of reproducing what only someone as brilliant as Abraham Erskine could do. He could not see himself get back on the project so soon after his friend's death either. He would, eventually, he owed this much to his mentor and to humanity, but not yet.

Life, and most of all, war, did not wait for the dead and the mourning.

Howard did find time to get a new distraction from his endless work, to a point where he could barely remember the last time he had slept between the relentless hours spent on different projects and his new occupation.

Women.

It was frivolous, and petty, and maybe stupid in some respects, but he had crossed the point of caring.

He didn't know why he thought it would make Peggy jealous. He didn't even know why he _wanted_ it to make Peggy jealous. He might very well have done it all only to flatter his ego – to ignore the emptiness that kept growing inside and fool himself into a masquerade of affection.

After spending so much time engrossed in his work and obsessing over his Soulmark, he got himself drunk on the feeling of holding a woman in his arms. The game of seduction was a powerplay he could not resist indulging in. He wasn't hurting anyone, not truly, and he let himself consumed by women's charms.

His reputation – already a liability in many respects – quickly grew from eccentric billionaire to playboy eccentric billionaire. Did he honestly care? Did he feel anything whenever he spent some time with Peggy again and she scolded him for being such a pathetic excuse of a human being – not that she'd ever use those words?

Not really.

In November third of 1943, he got to meet Steve Rogers again. He also learned, as he flew the super soldier to a suicidal and reckless plan to save his friend, that Captain America was his Soulmate's Soulmate.

Not sooner had he heard that that the Captain was jumping on the enemy base armed with close to nothing spare a shield and his sheer willpower.

Miraculously, he survived. And saved the 107th Infantry Regiment. And started a new elite team composed of soldiers probably as crazy as him.

Howard was relieved for several reasons about that.

First, because he didn't think he could bear to see Peggy mourn the man she had barely had the time to get to know but that she seemed to already love deeply.

Second, because Peggy quickly became an unofficial member of the Howling Commandos, as they called themselves, first in the coordination branch, then as an agent involved in several mission on the field. She was thriving, and he was happy for her.

Third, and that might have been the strangest reasons and the one that hurt him to think about the most, because he got to be a consultant as well and work with all of them.

The comradery was something he hadn't realized he had missed. The solitude had been eating up at him without him ever getting the wiser about it. Yet he found himself enjoying the Howling Commandos so much that at point, he could find a few minutes to forget about the war raging around them. It was something true, not anything like his passing flings with women he could barely remember the name of, something he'd remember for the rest of his life with tenderness.

Steve, in particular, was someone he hadn't thought he could grow close to. At first, the Captain had thought Peggy interested in Howard - which was desperately hilarious, especially since he had hoped for that himself at first. Ater a silly misunderstanding over fondue later, Steve Rodgers understood that Howard was no threat to him in regard to Peggy. Then, instead of the instant rivalry he had imagined would build between the two of them, Howard soon found himself seeking out the super soldier for late night discussions and advice on his designs.

The other man was an endless source of determination and rightfulness, not unlike Peggy, but he was also much more relaxed and tended to react on pure instinct. Howard had never thought he'd meet someone with more impulsivity than himself or Peggy, yet there he was. Always ready to do the right thing, pursuing his goals implacably and always, always restoring Howard's faith in humanity, even in those dark, dark times.

And when Howard saw Peggy kiss Steve's cheek for the first time, he realized that there was something very wrong with him. Because the jealousy he felt was not aimed towards the other man, but towards his Soulmate.

Somewhere along the way, he'd managed to fall in love with Steve Rogers.

And wasn't it just the biggest joke of the century? Not only he didn't have a Soulmate to love him back, but he also managed to want to steal hers away from himself. He wanted to, and he rarely refused himself anything but…

But Peggy was his friend. Even if he didn't take the Soulmate thing into account, he loved her. She was someone he had grown to know for close to four years, someone who he valued as a friend and as a person. Was it worth it, when Steve only had eyes for Peggy and Sergeant Barnes, his best friends since childhood? Could Howard ever forgive himself if he even entertained the idea?

The answer was no. So, he faded into the background, returning to the role of spectator he knew was meant for him in this situation. And if he couldn't be happy for himself, he could at least be for Peggy and Steve, who shared what precious few moments they could have in between missions with the desperation only war could bring.

The secret became the second he tried to burry deep enough to ignore himself, along with the Soulmark that he never spoke of.

In April 1944, war managed to remind him that the world's problems were much larger than his heart's longings.

Finow got added to the growing list of secrets Howard carried.

An old friend, Edwin Jarvis, contacted him, and Howard jumped on the occasion to do something good, something he knew without a shadow of a doubt would help. Saving Anna, Jarvis' new wife, to escape deportation, did not wash Howard's hands of all he had done wrong, but it certainly made things slightly better in the world.

However…

War was an ugly thing. Something that never seemed to end, neither in time, nor in horror. As much as Howard had grown to love the Howling Commandos and all that they represented, and as much as the friendship meant the world to him, it didn't change the number of people who died, who suffered, his worries over where Project Manhattan was heading, the regrets he had with Finow, the endless cycle of violence and misery, Doctor Erskine and Sergeant Barnes and –

Everything seemed to escalate after the capture of Zola, the second in command of Hydra.

He hadn't had the time to accept Sergeant Barnes' death, hadn't had the time to try and help Steve deal with his own grief. It all seemed too surreal.

It happened so fast that, even as he tried to comfort a crying Peggy in his arms – Peggy who never cried, who was always strong, who didn't like to be vulnerable, Peggy who was stronger than he'd ever be – he didn't fully realize the reality of Steve's absence before a month after the crash of the Valkyrie, when his disappearance was made public.

Then everything seemed to slow and drag painfully.

Steve couldn't be dead. Peggy had shown him his Words, believing herself to be crazy, believing herself to be seeing things that weren't there. And maybe he was crazy as well, but he saw the tattoo on her arm as dark as a starless night, the ink still clear on her skin.

Steve Rogers was still alive.

Howard had to find him. He had to reunite Peggy and him, ensure that they'd both survive this war and have the happy ending they deserved, had to make the world a little better, if only for two persons that mattered so much to him.

Not sooner had he started planning for rescue missions that the war was over.

Oh, there was still a lot to do, but war was over.

Then, they dropped the atomic bomb.

It did not matter that he had advised against it, that several scientists had advised against it, that even military personnel advised against it – in the end, it was dropped. Twice. On heavy populated areas.

The war might have been over, but his guilt was not.

Jarvis, who had become his butler, noticed how he managed to burry himself even further into work, and put a stop to it, advising that it would do him no good.

Jarvis could not do much against the women Howard distracted himself with however. Unhealthy excess could be reached in all forms.

The war had been won! It was time for celebration! Time for impulsive and ridiculous decisions, for flying planes around for another reason than military testing or making bullets rain down the enemy, like show them off to his conquests. Freedom, happiness, wasn't that all that the end of this war was about?

The bitter aftertaste could be easily ignored if he kept going.

It didn't last long before business and women bored him out of his mind again. And, without the distraction, how could he forget that there was still no sign of Steve to be found?

That's when he realized that the SSR was in dire need of replacement, the institution an aging system that no longer answered correctly to the world's problems, and that he could make that happen. With Peggy's help, there was no doubt he could do something relevant again, contribute to help the world not succumb again to the madness that had plagued it for half a decade, twice.

He also missed the Howling Commandos. And Peggy. He might have resigned himself to the fact that she would always be more of a sister to him, but he still longed for her presence and her annoying reproaches that still landed right between comedy and concern.

His projects for SHIELD were soon scraped however, with the theft of his inventions and the charges of treason he had to face. He still requested help from Peggy, yes, but for reasons completely different. And while his Soulmate was clearing his name in the company of his butler, he found himself gallivanting around the world to escape the unfair accusations - and most importantly the agents set after him. In his opinion, Peggy and Jarvis were having the most fun.

An evil plot defeated later by the best SSR agent he had ever got the luck to meet, and things were back to what they were – except that Peggy now refused to join him on his project, arguing she still had work to do at the SSR.

And well, without Peggy, there was no SHIELD. This could wait. (It would happen eventually though, this much Howard was sure of)

She did accept to live in the house he offered, even bringing a friend of hers as a roommate. A woman who had apparently helped Peggy in the apprehension of the Russian agent involved in the plot that had lead to his momentary disgrace.

Women proved to be less of a distraction as time passed, and more of an issue. Considering what had happened with that Russian lady – whom he couldn't for the life of him not remember the name of – it would probably be wiser to calm down on his usual endeavors. Slow down, not stop. He had still plenty of pretty actresses to meet in Los Angeles.

He had gone for the ladies (and for business, same difference), he had stayed for the movie industry, which proved to be an even better distraction than his other side projects.

Movies were magic. For a given length of time, they'd transform your reality into something of a dream, transport you to a place where there could have been no war, make you travel in time and delight anyone from the youngest to the oldest.

It was after he helped Peggy stop the insane – but brilliant – Whitney Frost, that he finally found the inspiration for a film he knew would be the best of his – admittedly short – career as a filmmaker.

 _Agent 13_ would be his masterpiece, a true chef-d'oeuvre!

Aside from expressing his creativity, the project had two purposes. One, restore in the public's eye the image of Betty Carver to its true shine. Peggy hadn't been kidnapped once during the war – at least, not that he had been aware of, and if she had been, she would have no doubt find a way to get out of her predicament before word of it even _reached_ Steve. The Betty Carver in his film would be a real character, and not a trophy like she was in the radio show.

Two, it would help him with the frustration that was the lack of result from his search of the Valkyrie. Invent a reality in which that search was fruitful.

For those reasons, he thought it imperative to ask Peggy her thoughts – if he was honest with himself, her agreement. She was hard to get on board with it.

"I don't see why you would make this!"

"It's about reestablishing the truth around Betty Carver! Don't you think the public deserves to know a better version than that horrid radio show's? Learn who was truly at Captain America's side?"

As always when Steve was mentioned, there was a small silence that weighted as heavy as their hearts hanging between them, before the conversation continued:

"Would they even want to see this? I've read your script, Howard, I don't think the public is ready for something as progressive. They'd think it would be unrealistic!"

"I haven't written anything that you wouldn't be able to do."

"And I barely get my colleagues to believe me!"

A stare contest took place between the two of them. The sheer British will was too strong for his American grit though.

"Believe me, Peg," Howard finally broke, "I can make this work."

"All right, let's admit you can. Why… Why the ending?"

Howard took a few seconds to answer.

"Because that's how the story ends."

"You know it's not –"

"That's how it will. And even if it doesn't, that's how it should end."

Peggy unconsciously brought her right hand to her left forearm and rubbed her Soulmark through the fabric. Then, determination settled on her face.

"How about a dream sequence?"

"A what?"

"A dream sequence. Betty falls asleep and gets woken up by her phone ringing. That's when she learns of – of his return. The ending plays out as described here, only the last images are of Betty Carver waking up, still waiting for the call. It's left ambiguous whether the phone will ring or not."

It was not the happy ending Howard had envisioned, but he was content enough with the investment on her part and her agreement.

And, he reasoned, it wasn't necessarily a bad ending or a disappointing one. Merely an open one. He still got to film a reunion he desperately wanted to see play out in real life. That was what movies were all about. Fulfilling fantasies.

 _Agent 13_ would happen.

"I forbid you from hiring Arlene French to play me," still imposed Peggy.

"She wouldn't fit for the action scenes anyway," shrugged Howard while internally scratching her name off. Never mind continuity then. It wasn't as if the script had reused anything from the radio show. Or if the actress was reliable. He dreaded waiting another minute on set for her to sober up.

"In fact," said Peggy with a calculated look in her eyes, "I might have just the actress for you. She's been dying for that role since she heard of the radio show. I'm sure she will be thrilled by the opportunity, and you'll love her."

"Well, I'm open to suggestions. How about an appointment to meet that actress of yours?"

"Just don't… Do your thing. She's my friend."

"My thing?" he raised an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean."

Howard had known Peggy for seven years. He trusted her judgement, let it be in military strategy or artistic recommendations. He honestly thought the woman he was about to meet would be competent – he simply had no idea how true that statement was.

The actress was Peggy's roommate, whom he had never had the pleasure to meet before, which might have indicated some favoritism on her part. She had managed to get a few minor roles before though, and Peggy said her talent had even been instrumental during the whole Russian lady debacle. No, he still didn't remember her name. Nor could he recall hearing Peggy's roommate's name either, for that matter.

When she entered the room, he thought she was Peggy.

She was dressed in a professional, deep blue jacket and skirt, a vibrant red hat planted on her head. Her shoes had heels, but discreet enough that he knew, from observing Peggy, that they'd be no hindrance in combat. It took him a moment to realize that the dark brown curls escaping from under the hat were a wig, as he was distracted by the red of her lips that matched the brilliant hue of her fedora. Even in the way she moved, it was with the same grace and rightfulness he found in Peggy.

She extended her hand for a handshake, managing to pull off a gesture that was both full of feminity and assertiveness, and said in the most perfect imitation of his friend, in a British accent adorned with the exact inflections of the other woman's voice:

"Nice to make your acquaintance, I am Agent Peggy Carter."

Completely speechless for the second time of his life, Howard shook her hand, a sparkle of warmth tingling his skin where it touched hers.

"Not to nitpick," he said slowly, trying to control his breathing in an attempt to calm down the hope that he had long thought of as dead, "but the role's name is Betty Carver."

Her hand tightened suddenly around his, her eyes going round and mouth hanging open. In an instant, she lost her composure, her body language turning back to her own in a stark contrast to the controlled façade she had composed.

"Holly molly," she said, this time in a thick New York accent, "Are you…? I mean, are we…?"

Her surprise matched his own, exposing her natural mannerisms and the wilder movements of her body. Her face had become an open book, direct honesty playing on her features. Even the sound of her voice seemed to follow a different pattern.

She was different from Peggy, different in a way that made a flutter he had never felt in Peggy's presence animate his heart.

This was it then, the real deal. Howard barely spared a thought to how Peggy would react to the news after she'd specifically warned him to "not do his thing".

Howard carefully brought his second hand to hers, still clasped in his own, then brought it to his lip to lay down a kiss on it.

"Now, I think it would only fair for me to learn your real name."

"Maria Angela Martinelli," she answered breathlessly. "But everyone calls me Angie."

"As long as you call me Howard."

And thus, seven years after the most improbable false positive there could ever have been, Howard met his Soulmate.

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